The Penderwicks: The Blow and the Hatred
by Dark Elixar Wizard
Summary: Skye is unable to play soccer due to a terrible injury everyone believes is caused by Melissa. As Jane is saddened by this, Skye refused to give up and puts her body to the limits to regain her abilities. Can this tough yet vulnerable girl obtain her dreams? Can Jane forgive Melissa? I don't own Penderwicks.


Skye lowered herself in a defensive crouch, her blue eyes lighting in an eager aura, matching her intense grin. Carefully tracing the movements of her opponents, she gauged the amount of time they would arrive where she stood. Jane had placed herself in front of her sister, happily and carelessly enjoying watching the other players take care of the attackers. Suddenly, one broke free, arms pumping, the soccer ball pounding beneath her feet.

"Jane!" The blonde shouted, carefully, threading her way through the swarm of players. "Jane, pass!"

The expert player had easily gotten the ball back in the Antonio's team possession and was doing her slow dribble back up field. She booted the black and white object neatly across the field. Skye picked the ball out of the air with a complicated trap and paused, as if contemplating her adversaries. Just as the rest of the other players got to her, she swung her foot and was able to make a clean goal.

Antonio's Pizza screamed with joy. It was their second goal of the game, tying them with Cameron Hardware. The half-time bell sounded, and the two sisters trotted off field.

"You two did great!" squealed Batty, throwing her arms around Jane. Jane laughed and twirled her around.

"C'mon, Jane! Skye complained, putting her hands on her hips, sipping on a bottle of sports drinks. "We're starting. Coach says he wants us to try some new plays."

Antonio's Pizza was struggling against Cameron. The players were tired, the air, sweltering, and one of the players had sprained her ankle, causing the team to be one person short.

"Oh, what's wrong Skye?" Taunted Melissa, laugh straight into Skye's glaring, perspiring face. Their legs entangled over and over again, fighting for a chance of mastery over the ball. "Are you tired? Good thing, I'm getting bored of seeing your face!" She flicked the ball out of Skye's reach and raced forward.

"N-no!" Skye gasped, barely able to breathe, but pressing herself forward, her red and yellow uniform clinging onto her skin. She ran after her mortal enemy, determined to win the ball back.

Melissa looked behind her and saw a furious Skye pounding after her, each pant like the thud of a drum. Too bad. Melissa, though being a good player, had nowhere near the amount of talent as Jane, who crept up and slide-tacked the ball.

"T-thanks Jane." Huffed Skye. She turned, but Melissa had gotten back on her feet, mad as a hornet. The now tired Skye had barely any steam left in her muscles, and struggled with every step.

Then, it happened.

Jane saw it with her own eyes.

It was a gruesome attack.

Two players tackled Skye just as she reached the goal. Just as she regained her balanced, Melissa, attempting to trip her, ended up falling over. The way the referees and the rest of the Penderwicks saw it, Melissa had just given Skye a brutal knee to the chest as she fell.

Skye felt no pain. The dizziness and lightheadedness made no sense, but it was expected since she had just fallen over. Blackness began to creep onto the edges of her vision. Despite the hot weather, she felt cold, and kind of sick.

Painless.

Dizziness.

Blackness.

Coldness.

"Skye!" Jane was scared. Skye still wasn't getting up, and she knew her tough sister could shrug away something like that in an instant. Racing out onto the field, the Penderwick family knelt down next to the fallen sister. Barely able to control her Mick Hart temper, she saw that Skye's face was pale.

Too pale.

"Someone! Call an ambulance!" The ref screamed shrilly, blowing his whistle in loud, short bursts.

"What's wrong?" The words caught in Jane's throat when she saw Mr. Penderwick already applying CPR to Skye. "Skye? Oh, Skye, I'm sorry," Jane began to weep. "I should've made the goal, not you. What happened to you?"

Melissa looked terrified. She didn't want to be convicted of murder (in her imagination, of course). "S-s-say, I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"Oh yeah?" The curly head brunette's face turned up, pure anger coursing over the perimeter of her face. "Yeah, yeah, like I believe you!"

Aunt Claire put a loving hand on both girls' shoulders. "Now, we can't have prevented this accident."

"O-okay." Melissa faltered. "But why isn't she getting up?"

With sweat dripping down his face, Mr. Penderwick pushed his glasses up his nose, his warm brown eyes grim and worried. "It's a cause of BCI; blunt cardiac injury, to be more precise. Essentially," He pointed at Melissa, who squeaked and tried to hide. "When you hurt her, the trauma was sent to the heart…thus effectively disabling her." In between words, Mr. Penderwick continued his CPR, breathing into his daughter's mouth every thirty strokes. "She's in cardiac arrest. We need the ambulances now!" His words ended in an ear piercing scream. As if to answer his shout, the squealing of the ambulance tore over the field. Two navy clad EMTs raced over, holding an AED unit in their hands.

Working with amazing effectiveness, the duo prepped Skye for the jolting amount of electricity about to be expended on her. After the loud ZAP, one EMT bent down to listen.

"Her heart's beating. Irregularly, but better than nothing. I believe she has some minor scratches on her limbs, but we need to be extra carefully in the thorax area, and the ribs."

"Y'Sir!"

Jane was horrified. This couldn't have happened. Maybe…maybe it was just a very bad dream that was plaguing her thoughts. No. It was too real. Skye, actually and literally, almost dying on her favorite field, the soccer field. Finally, Jane broke down crying, the tears dotting her muddy uniform.

"W-why," she sobbed, "did it have to be Skye? I-it should've been me. W-why!?" She beat her fists on the blue plastic of the hospital chair on which she was situated. It was exactly seven hours since the incident. Aunt Claire and Iantha had taken the little ones, Ben and Batty home. Barely forcing herself to eat a chocolate bar that Mr. Penderwick insisted, she tried to divert her mind from the intense feeling of remorse.

"You may come in now." A nurse poked her head out into the hall. "Skye Penderwick is out of surgery. The doctor will tell you the rest."

Breathing.

Heartbeats.

Never having seen her sister so vulnerable, Jane watched as Mr. Penderwick slipped a rough hand into his daughter's limp one.

An oxygen mask was fastened onto Skye's face, a clear pink plastic cone. If Skye weren't so badly injured, she would've made the biggest fuss in the hospital, being that she hated pink. Other monitors, some looking scarier than the others. This was Jane's second time being in a hospital room. The first time was for Mommy, right before she died after having Batty. Now this…

Sweeping to the room, the doctor, wearing a white coat and long black pants, straightened his tie and clear his throat.

"Your daughter, Skye, seems to have suffered an acute BCI. She is now in moderately stable condition, though we recommend refraining from talking to much to her. Since the injury was to the ribs and thorax, she does have several fractures."

"Really?" Mr. Penderwick looked utterly surprised. "But she said two words before she blacked out. It was "no pain"."

"Ah, that. It was probably due to the shock of the accident. Now, I want to make something clear to you both."

"What's that?"

"This girl, Skye Penderwick, will not be able to play soccer anymore."


End file.
